On the Beach Ch. 19

"I've never seen you with your hair down, sweetie. How long is it now? May I see?"

"It'll be a mess," Owen offers.

"I'm a stylist, hon. I look at potential. Let me see. I bet you have beautiful hair."

Owen deftly unwinds the elastic band that holds his hair in a bun. He leans over Muriel to lay the band on the bedside table, pulling his cock away from Bill's hand. Muriel takes over. She moves back on Mark's legs, almost sitting. Owen sits back on his heels and begins to unwind and untangle his hair. Muriel's soft hands gently stroke and pull at his cock.

Owen's hair is longer than anyone, other than Muriel, had suspected. It hangs to the middle of his back. Bill runs his fingers through it, careful not to snag on any of the tangles Owen has missed.

"Honey, half my customers would kill for that hair. It's beautiful."

Owen's face loses some of the tension that had tightened it.

"I insist you let me take care of that hair for you. Don't worry; I've no intention of advising you to cut it. None at all. I want to sculpt it, honey."

"Okay," Owen whispers.

"You like having it washed? I know some folks don't. It's beyond me. I dearly love having my hair washed, my scalp massaged. Heaven on earth. I'll have Jenny do that for you. All she does for me is shampoos. People will change their appointments if Jenny isn't there. That girl has magic fingers."

All the time she is speaking, Muriel urges Owen forward, gently drawing him closer, so slowly he's hardly aware of it.

Owen keeps staring into Muriel's eyes. He listens to the lull of her voice. He's hardly aware of the moment when his cock touches her pussy. It's so warm, so wet. He doesn't recall that from the one or two other times he's attempted this. By this point in his other attempts, his cock would have been barely hard. He would be mumbling apologies and excuses. One girl had murmured encouragement and sympathy. The other had rolled from under him, making no attempt to hide her disgust.

Bill's hand is stroking his butt now. Muriel keeps one hand on the base of his cock. The other rests on the back of his shoulder. She urges him forward. He shivers as her womanhood closes around his cock.

Her hands go to his head.

"Oh, hon, I might have to change my mind about Jenny. What a gorgeous head of hair. I'm not entirely sure I won't be too jealous to let Jenny get her mitts on this hair of yours." She lowers her hand to the back of his neck. "Shame on you, letting all this fuzzy mess grow up on the back of your neck like that. I need to show Bill how to keep that trimmed for you. Easiest thing in the world."

Her legs have gone behind his legs. She uses them to encourage him to move forward. His hips begin to move, almost of their own volition.

"Oh, honey. That feels so nice. So nice. Mmm." It's the first time she's mentioned the fact that Owen is now fucking her. Her nails trail over his back. Bill's fingers dip into his ass crack. Muriel continues to murmur. He feels hypnotized. He becomes aware someone is still playing with his hair. It's Mark, reaching over Muriel's shoulder.

Muriel puts her hand behind his neck and pulls him forward. His long hair falls over them, hiding their faces. She pulls his face to the side of her neck. Her arms wrap around his shoulders. He can smell her deodorant. It's faint and subtle. Her neck is sticky with sweat. He's not sure if it is hers or his own. Mark's fingers have left his hair and knead his shoulder and arm. Bill's fingers have never left him. They dance over his over-sensitized skin and he shivers again.

He cums with a whimper against Muriel's neck. It is slow to dissipate; unlike any other orgasm he's ever had. He rests against Muriel's chest and feels his heart pounding against her breast. She feels his shoulders being to shake. She shifts and motions with one hand for the others, Mark included, to leave. She takes a hold of Bill's arm, on the off chance he imagines he's included in the gesture.

As Mark moves from underneath her, she settles on to her back.

"Bill, honey, hand me that pillow would you?"

He does and when he sees what she intends, he helps her fold it and position it under her butt. She keeps one arm around Owen's shoulder, holding him close. His face is still pressed against the side of her neck. Bill stretches out behind him, presses his body to his and drape an over the man's side. His fingers caress Muriel's tummy.

Owen's body stills. Muriel is fairly sure he's asleep. She lies there wondering if this will work, wondering if it's a terrible mistake but mostly wondering if she can find it in her heart not to hate Owen's stupid, stupid mother.

"You think he's okay?" Jill whispers. They've all congregated in the living room.

"Let's go back down to the pool," Meg suggests. She doesn't wait for a response but turns and heads for the patio door. They join her and she closes it behind them. The day has grown hot. It's midafternoon. Even the surf sounds muted under the heavy air.

They end up in the shade. A quick dip and then the blessed shade and the occasional breeze that's sweet enough to make even an atheist praise God.

"He'll be okay," Mark says. It's at least 15 minutes since Jill posed the question but they all understand that Mark is answering it. "He's got Bill and Muriel. Other than you," he nods at his sister. "Or you guys," he nods to his parents and finally nods at Jim with a big smile. "Or last but not least, the newest member of the family. He couldn't be with two gentler people in the world." He shakes his head. "I think we saw more of a catharsis than a crisis. Imagine, the poor fucker has felt alone all his life, even from his parents. Jesus, that has got to totally fucking suck. Now, bam, he's in the middle of a group of people who don't give a shit if he's gay, who welcome him with open arms."

"And open legs," Ben mutters.

"Huh?" Marks asks confused.

"Never mind, old 'Who' song. I think you're right, though. The kid has said as much. And you're also right about your brother and Muriel." He shakes her head. "Did you see how she calmed him down? Comforted him? Amazing. Truly amazing."

They settle back on to the cushions and think their own thoughts, getting drowsy in the heat. Jill and Jim make their way back to the pool for a quick dip, retrieve their suits, and head off toward the beach.

"I can totally see why my brother is in love with you," Bill whispers to Muriel over Owen's back. "I love you, too. I almost wish I was straight."

"You're sweet, William Casey, awfully sweet and I love you, too, just the way you are." Her fingers pat Owen's shoulder. "Your young beau here has had a helluva rough ride. His daddy does his best for him but, sad to say, has never muster the strength or courage to tell his wife she's full of shit. The boy has suffered for it." She's quiet for a time, fingers rubbing over Owen's shoulder. "I'm not a Christian, not totally anyway, but I do agree that you can find peace in your soul without forgiveness. I try. I really do. I can forgive my own family easier than I can forgive this boy's hateful damn momma."

"I have," Owen whispers. "Just a bit ago." He starts to laugh. "I'm a fucking faggot and I found release in a pussy, not release as in 'cum' but as in 'emotional'."

"Honey, I'm sorry. I thought you was asleep, even so, it was foolish of me to talk about your momma in front of you like that."

"Don't be," Owen whispers into the side of her neck before rolling more toward Bill. "I wasn't joking. Everything just came pouring over me all at once. I might just have fathered a kid. As sweet as Muriel was, I'm still truly a fag."

Muriel smacks the back of his head. "I've had this discussion already with Bill. I don't want to hear that word, not said that way, about yourself or anyone else. Queer, neither. Understand me? I hate both of 'em."

"Yes, ma'am," a clearly chastised Owen replies. "Faggot, gay, whatever you want to call me, it never occurred to me, until the past day or so, that someone could actually like me, love me. If your own mother can't love you, how can anyone else?" He pauses. "As I was lying here, I realized my mother is never going to hold me like that. I don't mean sex. I mean just hug me and love me. Never. And I realized there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. That's not why I was crying, though. I was crying because I realized there's not a fucking thing she can do about it either. It's who she is. I don't hate a bee for stinging me. That's what a bee is. Why hate her?"

Both Bill and Muriel have several thoughts about the applicability of Owen's bee analogy. They both could think of several reasons to hate the woman, but since they both believed forgiveness is key, they keep their mouths shut.

Owen rolled over to lie in Bill's arms. "Thanks. I couldn't have done that without you."

"Bullshit. You don't need me, or anyone, to be worth loving."

"Maybe, but thanks anyway."

Bill kisses him quickly on the lips. "You're welcome anyway." He looks over Owen at Muriel.

"How long do you have to stay in that position?"

"I don't really know, honey. I more or less pick twenty minutes out of the air."

"I thought I read somewhere that the reason human females have orgasms is to help move the semen up into the uterus." Bill says, looking at her. "You didn't cum did you?"

"No but Lordy did Owen feel nice. Sweetie," she rubs Owen's butt with one hand, "you were wonderful. If more men made love as sweet and gentle as you, women would be a damn sight happier lot, that much is for sure. Don't you let Bill make you feel bad because I didn't cum. It's a rare woman who cums every times she fucks."

"I wasn't criticizing," Bill says, defending himself. "I was just thinking we should help you cum. Jeez."

"Well, I've never been one to find fault with having an orgasm," Muriel chuckles. "Why don't the two of you to snuggle up together and lie here beside me and keep me company. Just feeling you close by; that's enough for me."

She's not surprised when it's Owen whose back ends up pressed against her side. Bill reaches across him to rest a hand on her upper arm. Her fingers probe between her legs. She feels Owen's wetness and her breath catches in her throat. Even if nothing comes of this, she knows she is surrounded by people who love her and care for her. She's blessed, more blessed than she ever imagine, or can even imagine deserving.

She imagines lying in this bed with Mark on top of her. His face is against her neck. He's lovely cock is deep inside her. Her legs go around his back as he shares himself with her. To the side of the bed, beside the window, cooing sounds come from a white wicker bassinet.

Her orgasm, when it comes, is soft. It washes gently over her body. Beside her, the whispered voices pause for a moment. Before they begin again, she's asleep.

She half wakes to the sounds of whispers.

"No, I don't mind. Are you kidding? But she's asleep?"

The bed shifts.

"Muriel?" It's Bill. She cracks open one eye.

"Hmm?"

"I woke up with a boner. Jill didn't say how long to wait. She just said space it out. I can try to wait. I know she said it was okay but if this doesn't work for you, I don't want to think to myself it was because I jerked off instead of making love to you."

Muriel smiles but doesn't open her eyes further. Rather, she opens her arms.

Bill crawls over Owen and kneels between Muriel's legs. The folded up pillow under her rear looks soaked. He hopes that's not a bad sign. Shouldn't all that jizz be insider her? Trying to nose its way into an unsuspecting ovum? It's a bit of a turn-on though. Surely, what's run out onto her legs and taint isn't going to get her pregnant.

He scoots back and when he puts his mouth on the inside of her thigh, high up, an ear brushing her cunt, she does not complain. She rubs his head with one hand. She opens the other arm to Owen, who has rolled to face them. He lies down on her shoulder and she strokes his back as his lover kisses and licks her thighs.

She moans a little when Bill lifts her ass with his hands. His tongue roams for her rose bud to her pussy. She notes how he is careful not to put his tongue in her pussy. She smiles to herself at his exaggerated sense of responsibility. She loves him nearly as much as she loves his brother.

She sighs into the top of Owen's head when Bill enters her. She plays with Owen's hair, imagines how it will feel between her fingers, the way the scissors sound as she careful snips a bit here, another bit there. She relishes the way the soft curls will feel as they fall onto her legs, her feet.

Bill's cock is swallowed by heat, heat and moisture. His cock is coated with Owen's cum. That realization is surprisingly arousing. He suppresses the urge to really pound her. He wants to move all that wonderful cum deeper into her body, not send it squishing out of her. He moves slowly, barely moving at all, keeping his cock deep in her pussy.

It's different this way, almost as different as pussy is from ass. The opening of her pussy can't stimulate the crown of his cock head when he fucks her like this. It's like his foreskin is plastered to the walls of her cunt and the head of his cock slides in and out of it. He's fucking his own foreskin as much as he's fucking her pussy.

Owen is watching him, lying there with Muriel stroking his hair and back. Bill smiles at him. Owen winks at him. He'd like to lean over and kiss him but that would push Muriel's ass down and he wants to keep it up in the air, keep her pussy vertical, a warm welcoming tunnel for his, and Bill's, cum to follow to her womb.

He bites his lip as he cums. He wants to tell her how much he hopes the baby is his but he's embarrassed to. He's afraid to lie on top of her for the same reason he didn't want to lean over to kiss Bill.

He moves to her side and puts his leg under her butt. The pillow has been squashed almost flat at this point. He puts a hand between her legs and cups her pussy. She starts to laugh when she realizes what he's doing.

He hears Owen ask her what's so funny.

"Bill. Not that Bill is funny. I'm tickled by how hard he's trying."

Owen looks puzzled. Muriel nods toward her crotch.

"He keeps scooping up what's running out of my pussy and putting it back with his fingers," she giggles. She hugs Bill close with one arm. "Honey, that's not necessary. Just lie here beside me. Keep me company. That's all the help I need." She kisses the top of his head. "Lord, love ya."

She turns and kisses Owen on top of the head. "Lord, love you, too, honey. You, too."

She settles back, hoping nature knows what to do.

She shakes her head, impressed with the short recovery time of youth. Owen, his cock hard again and pressing against her leg, is licking Bill's fingers clean.